


error 143

by jjokkiri



Series: monsta x bingo (winter 2017) [25]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, Artificial Intelligence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Monsta X Bingo, Other, Past Character Death, brothers!wonkyun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjokkiri/pseuds/jjokkiri
Summary: Only robots built to love would love a genius with nothing else to offer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the _Human/Robot (Artificial Intelligence)_ square of [Monsta X Bingo](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/MXbingo).

 

The sounds of tapping against a keyboard filled the room, and there was the sound of shuffling footsteps from outside the room. Hoseok, twenty-two, sat at his computer with eyes focused on the screen. There was the sound of knocking of knuckles against the door, but Hoseok didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch, even when the door jolted open and caught itself on the door chain, making a loud sound. The dark haired boy continued to type, eyes fixed on the bright screen in the middle of the dark room.

“Hyung?” came his little brother’s voice. He barely acknowledged the sound of his brother’s voice. “Hyung, have you eaten?”

“No,” Hoseok replied, after a moment. “It’s okay. I have some leftovers from yesterday.”

Changkyun leaned against the door, letting his weight push against it and strain the metal of the chain holding the door shut.

“Hyung, that’s from two days ago. You haven’t left your room for days,” Changkyun told him.

And Hoseok wouldn’t have known, if Changkyun didn’t tell him.

“Hyung...” came Changkyun’s voice again.

Hoseok didn’t respond, but Changkyun continued to speak, anyway.

“I’m worried about you. You haven’t left your room for days, and God knows what you’ve eaten. You know that’s not healthy, right? I just want you to take care of yourself, and I know you’re sad that... _Kihyun hyung_... is gone, but don’t you think he would have wanted you to take care of yourself?”

Changkyun hated the presence of the robot, when it existed. His brother was a brilliant programmer, and when he’d brought a learning robot to life, it had been amazing. But, when Changkyun learned that Hoseok was only doing it because he felt alone and unloved, it crushed his heart and he began to develop a hatred for the robot that Hoseok had named _Kihyun_.

Truthfully, Kihyun never did anything wrong. He did what he was made for: he loved Hoseok and accompanied him on lonely nights, when the older man couldn’t fall asleep. Hoseok had been so invested into the robot, though. It seemed as if he’d forgotten that he had a younger brother who was willing to listen to his problems, even in the middle of the night, when he had to attend school, the next day.

When their parents passed away in a tragic car accident, courtesy of their father making foolish decisions and drinking under the influence, Hoseok had fallen into a depression: a state of mind where he insisted that no one loved him and genuinely believed it. He’d pushed away all of his friends, and buried himself into a solitude.

Building Kihyun was an attempt to fill that empty hole which he’d drilled when he convinced himself that _no one_ would love a genius with nothing else to offer. Because Hoseok was brilliant, and he let himself be swallowed in the technology around him. Changkyun’s friends, the ones who came over to do homework, always made faces and questioned why Hoseok was such a _nerd_. And Changkyun’s heart ached for his older brother, because Hoseok didn’t deserve that.

It wasn’t a fault to be smart.

Hoseok had restored his happiness in falling in love with the artificial being he’d created when he built Kihyun. Kihyun possessed all the traits one could want in a lover, save the fact that he wasn’t _real._ And it had been just a few weeks since there was a bug in the robot’s system: a critical flaw in the coding that even Hoseok couldn’t fix. The robot had slowly become useless, and eventually, he failed to turn on at all. Hoseok’s heart shattered when one of the wires in the back of Kihyun’s neck exploded and set itself aflame; the robot’s eyes had widened in horror, before the light behind his eyes died completely.

And he’d been locked in his room for days since the robot malfunctioned. Undoubtedly, he was working to try and revive the robot. Changkyun’s heart tore itself apart at the idea that his brother honestly believed that there wasn’t someone on the planet who could love him as much as a _robot_ could.

He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath.

“I know you’re not really going to listen to what I have to say,” he continued, “You’ve always said that I’m a kid, and I don’t know what I’m talking about, but... I think I do. I don’t want to be just a little kid to you, hyung. I want my brother back. I want to see the person who smiled at me and told me I did well, whenever I got my tests back; pat my hair and told me I was amazing.

“I want the hyung I had when mom and dad were still alive. I’m only sixteen, hyung. I can’t do this on my own... I don’t want to feel alone, hyung. I don’t want you to feel alone, either. You built Kihyun hyung because you felt like there was no one there for you, right? Well, hyung... Hoseok hyung,” he took a breath, “I’m right here.”

There was a silence between the brothers. There wasn’t much else to say, but the pregnant silence seemed to give Changkyun the answer he needed (though, not the answer he wanted).

And with a soft sigh, the door fell shut again, clicking quietly. The single action almost seemed to radiate with the disappointment and heartbreak in Changkyun’s chest.

Suddenly, there was the sound of the chain sliding against metal.

It opened again, and Hoseok stood before his little brother with a tired, guilty expression on his face.

“Okay,” he breathed, “Let’s go have dinner. _Together_.”


End file.
